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Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Book Blitz for Expected by Sarah England

Only, she doesn’t dare tell anyone. Especially her
grandchild-obsessed mother, or her fiancé, Simon – top surgeon by day,
mind-game expert by night.

Repressed by the expectations of others, Sam feels trapped. All she
ever wanted was a career and a crack at independence, but as a
catastrophically failed psychiatric nurse who now injects fillers into
the crinkled faces of unhappy women, a career is proving tricky. There’s
something wrong with the product and now clients are suing.

Sam is going to have to find her voice if she ever wants to be herself, fall in love, and follow her dreams.

Alas, the wedding date is set…

Excerpt: I have a needle stuck in Mrs. Devine’s face.

“Is it working, Sam?” she asks.

“Oh, um, definitely. Yes.”

Truthfully? Nothing is coming out of the syringe, and the harder I
press the plunger the more my hand shakes and the needle bends. This is
what is going to happen next—the needle snaps off before speeding along
the venous highway like a tiny dart toward Mrs. Devine’s heart. Either
that, or the whole thing suddenly gives way, and I rip a hole through
her head. Sweat surfaces all over my body. I must have the flu or a
nasty virus. Might even faint while still holding a syringe with a
client attached to it.

Damn. Cellafiller is supposed to be the best thing since Collagen,
but really, it’s nearly impossible to squeeze this stuff out, let alone
artfully sculpt it beneath tissue-thin skin. I don’t remember it being
so difficult during training, but now I’m on my own, well . . . let’s
just say it isn’t a happy situation being in a back-street beauty salon
with a bunch of women expecting great things.

Mrs. Devine, my model, and something big in local amateur dramatics,
is lying on the clinic couch in full make-up, coral lips stretched into
her performance smile as I try in vain to fill the ravine between her
eyebrows. She doesn’t have a frown line through her glabella muscle so
much as a grand canyon.

The small crowd of potential customers straining for a glimpse of
this miraculous demonstration is visibly shrinking back. You can almost
hear the hissing recoil. I don’t need to glance up to see the sharp
downturn of glossed lips and the widening of black-rimmed eyes. Mrs.
Devine’s grand canyon is oozing fresh blood. I’ve got the needle fully
inserted now, retracting the syringe oh-so-slowly the way I’ve been
taught, while my furiously vibrating thumb tries in vain to inject
treacle-thick product. Should have taken minutes, and then ta-da! But
the harder the plunger is depressed, the more blood oozes out, lying
darkly now in a swelling puddle of glistening, ruby red.

Hot nausea tides over me. I feel terrible, by the way, just in case
you’re wondering; this poor woman had a long, squiggly frown line, and
now she’s got what looks like a botched lobotomy. All eyes focus on my
trembling hands as I withdraw the syringe, mop up the debris, and
declare the job done. I’ve seen less blood-soaked gauze following
open-heart surgery.

“There we are,” I trill, as lightly as if I just served up a plate of lasagna. “And in a couple of days, the line will be gone.”

Ignoring the horrified faces, particularly mine in the mirror
opposite—so white against my red hair I look like Elizabeth the First
after a nasty shock—I snap off my latex gloves, and return to its box
the still full syringe with its severely weakened, bent needle. I cannot
look at Mrs. Devine as she hops off the couch with blood pouring from
her head. To be honest, I could cry. Mrs. Devine owns the clinic and had
it gone well, there would have been a list of new clients for our new
product. Instead, it’s a major screw-up. Another one. In time, she will
have a scar, and that will no doubt take her mind off the ravine. But
long before that, there will be that call—the one about having spoken to
her lawyer.

***

My name is Sam Sweet, and I’m in total
control; just because every decision I have never made was made by
someone else does not mean I am not in control of my life now. Of course
I am. Oh, God. Look, I’m doing my best. What else could I have done
back there? Oh, God.

Author Bio: Sarah originally trained as a nurse in Sheffield (UK) and then went
on to work as a medical representative for nearly 20 years, specialising
in mental health.

She had always wanted to write fiction, but did not begin until
around 8 years ago, prompted by a house move and relocation to the South
coast. Since then she has had around 140 short stories published,
mostly in national magazines and various anthologies; and most recently a
3 part detective serial in Woman’s Weekly.

3 am and Wide Awake was released in May
2013 by Alife Dog Fiction – a collection of 25 thrillers, many
supernatural or medically based – two of her predominant themes.

Expected is Sarah’s first novel – a comedy
launched by Crooked Cat Publishing on 28th June, 2013. She lives in
Dorset with her husband, Don, and spaniel, Harry.